


And The Raven Shall Dwell In It

by CourierNinetyTwo



Series: Mafia Blake AU [5]
Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 12:23:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1982865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weiss' old tutor has a business proposal. Part of the Mafia AU, set after Bind, but can be considered a companion piece to An Abode For Jackals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And The Raven Shall Dwell In It

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for rough sex and implied breathplay.

“Are you sure this is the right place?”

Weiss glanced up as Blake lit a cigarette, watching the flame of the lighter jump and flicker, daring near calloused fingertips. As soon as it caught, the Faunus took a long drag until smoke spilled out of flared nostrils, coiling like a dragon’s breath. When the cigarette was offered, she hesitated a second before accepting, the filter holding the warmth of Blake’s mouth. It was a filthy, harmful habit for a hundred reasons, but Weiss had long become accustomed to the scent of old ash that lay like a shroud over suits and ties, set deep into leather. If her lover was so insistent on burning, she would too.

“It’s the right address.” Weiss said after a slow exhale, surrendering the cigarette.

The music from inside the club carried a heavy, insistent beat, everything beyond the bass muted by chipped brick walls and bulletproof windows. In truth, it wasn’t the sort of aesthetic Weiss would ever ascribe to Cinder; her memories were of slender fingers around a glass of autumnberry cordial, pleased hums when she answered a question right on the first try, the heady scent of books so ancient the older woman had to help her turn the pages, lest they tear or crumble into bits. Other details — the whisper of a kiss over the top of her hair, nails like sheathed claws pressing against the powder blue veins in one exposed wrist — threatened to provoke a blush, despite the fact that it had been years. Weiss couldn’t afford the fracture in her demeanor, not tonight.

Grains of ash were dispelled to the sidewalk with a subtle shake of Blake’s fingers. “Who is this woman again?”

“She was one of my father’s associates.” Weiss looked away from the Faunus to the entryway where a bouncer stood, hands running through the gray spikes of his hair to rearrange it to his liking. “The scroll call was vague, but for her to contact me after so long, it has to be important.”

Not a lie, not technically. Weiss fought to keep the consternation from rising on her face, putting her hand over Blake’s when the Faunus reached for another cigarette. Delaying any longer would prove her nerves were threatening to get the best of her, not on just one count, but two. Seeing Cinder again and discerning the motive for the call were certainly concerns, but Weiss had held her tongue on the heart of the matter, stringing Blake along with as few breadcrumbs as possible. She adored the Faunus — they had even exchanged the proper words once, three years and  _love_  felt like they were promising to share the same noose when the time came — but Blake’s drive to protect her had left a good deal of blood in its wake, and she didn’t want to urge tooth and claw free without confirming her own suspicions first.

“Lead the way.” Blake said.

Weiss withheld a sigh, ignoring the sudden tightness in her chest. As she turned towards the door, the Faunus fell into that familiar place at her right and half a step back. How Blake tolerated it, Weiss had never been sure; the difference in their heights alone meant a shortened stride, not to mention constant awareness so they never swerved into one another. Shadows fusing in the low light, she met the bouncer’s eyes for a split second before his gaze traveled up another foot to look at Blake.

“Not hiding any weapons, are you, cat?”

He hadn’t paid a whit of attention to Mytrenaster, making the scrutiny unbelievable rude. Opening her mouth to protest, Weiss was cut off by the shift of fabric as Blake undid silver buttons without a second’s hesitation, vest opened to reveal a clean white dress shirt and no sign of daggers or Dust. The look was fairly casual for the Faunus; tie absent, sleeves rolled up to each elbow and exposing the ink etched down to both wrists. It held a slight element of risk, considering that the tattoos were rather distinct, but without any visible that declared allegiance to the White Fang, Weiss had approved. As much as she enjoyed how Blake looked in a full suit, it would have attracted more attention in a club. Besides, the vest was very snug.

“Pat me down if you like.” Blake held the bouncer’s stare without blinking.

After a moment, his mouth twitched into a frown. “Go on in.”

Weiss focused on the man’s face, memorizing it for later, and stepped past him. The constant hammering of the bass through the outside brick had nothing on the wall of sound that hit them as she walked through the sliding doors. A mass of bodies filled the raised dance floor in the center, spilling outward towards the bars on either side in a cacophony of moving limbs and chatter, the constant flash of white light painting everyone with an anonymous glare. Glass and slick black steel framed the entire room, the reflections scattered across the walls broken up by the crimson glow of polished counters and the balcony above where a masked DJ bobbed their head in time with the beat.

“Your father went to a lot of nightclubs?” Blake asked, nearly having to shout to be heard.

Weiss shrugged. “She said this was a new investment.”

Unfortunately, she didn’t have the first idea where to find Cinder in this furor. As unlikely as it seemed, her eyes scanned through the patrons who were dancing, although the proliferation of sunglasses and visors in the crowd made it difficult to tell one dark-haired woman from the next, much less hone in on a pair of golden eyes. Weiss’ attention wavered when she saw Blake frown, gaze leveled at the bar against the farthest wall. Following the path of the Faunus’ stare, it centered on someone in a white suit jacket, red hair tucked beneath a cap.

“Is there something wrong?” Weiss asked.

“No,” Blake’s arms crossed, a curious twinge going through velvet-lined ears, “I thought I recognized somebody.”

Staring for another ten seconds didn’t ring any bells, concerning or otherwise. “I don’t recognize  _anyone_ , which is going to be a problem if—”

“Ms. Schnee?”

Weiss’ eyes snapped forward as her hand went to Myrtenaster, fingers stopping centimeters shy of the barrel when the press of Blake’s arm against her back gave her pause. The man who had spoken was nearly as wide as he was tall, with a smartly trimmed beard and short black hair, his tie the exact shade of red used to light up the bar. No tell-tale bulges of hidden weapons or Dust disrupted the line of his shirt, but without being able to see his back, Weiss couldn’t confirm he was unarmed. Anyone who knew her by sight was a threat until proven otherwise.

“I’m supposed to escort you,” he said, turning his palms up to show they were empty, “she said you would remember the first time that you showed her that sword you're carrying.”

Five years and she could recall the moment perfectly like it was trapped on a glass slide inside her memory. That was when Myrtenaster was confined to a mahogany case, only unlocked for an hour of daily practice. Her father had insisted she couldn’t be allowed to carry it on her hip, lest she pick up the broad swagger of a huntress and others began to notice. For all his talk of personal safety and independence, he cared far more about her outward appearance to investors and future suitors alike, assigning a maid to ensure that callouses and scrapes never lingered on her skin.

Stealing away to the armory had been a rebellion then, Cinder following in tow with a smile bright enough to make all the steel and silver in the room dull by comparison. Weiss pleaded for respite when their lesson was finished, insisting she had something of great value to show. It seemed childish now to imagine that a grown woman, especially one educated enough to be her tutor, would be impressed by something so simple as a Dust-charged rapier, but Cinder catered to her whim without question, watching with pronounced pride as she opened the case. For all the numbers she eventually memorized, the code to Myrtenaster had been dearest to her heart. A weapon was freedom in a world of monsters, the tool to carve out one’s own place.

_“Do you wish to be a huntress, Weiss?” Cinder asked. Her voice was husky but warm, chased with honey._

_“My father won’t let me go after Grimm.” She insisted._

_One arm slid flush to her own, fingers wrapping around where she gripped the hilt. “You don’t have to kill Grimm to be a huntress, little one. You just have to learn to tolerate the taste of blood.”_

“Weiss—” Blake began, interpreting her silence as a lack of recognition.

“It’s fine.” She glanced up, confirming the words with a solid stare when amber eyes narrowed. “I know what he’s talking about.”

The man turned on his heel after a meager bow. “This way.”

As much as Weiss hoped the exchange would ease any concerns, the Faunus radiated displeasure alongside her, keeping any and all patrons at a distance. One look and they chose to slip into the crowd rather than push past Blake, paying little mind to their guide in the crimson tie; he was just another fixture of the club as far as everyone else was concerned. When he came to a halt in front of one of the mirrored walls, she felt her mouth tug itself into a fair imitation of her lover’s perpetual frown.

“One moment.” He raised his hand and Weiss saw a pinpoint of light above his head, the lens of a camera too small to discern from a distance. A perfect line suddenly divided the mirror, followed by a subtle mechanical whirr until both halves opened like a set of doors. “Keeps the drunk and high from wandering in on private business.”  
  
“Charming.” Weiss said.

The hallway was cast in a far different tone than the rest of the club, smooth concrete walls in stark contrast to fine carpeting embroidered with gilt and rich reds, giving it a look of a project half-done, or that perhaps there was something distasteful that required covering the floor. They passed half a dozen doors, the function of their rooms unlabeled, before the man came to a stop and produced a keycard from his pocket, swiping it through the nondescript lock. As the door swung open, he stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter.

If this was a trap, it was a well-baited one. Weiss knew she couldn’t see her concerns allayed without stepping inside, so she crossed the threshold with purpose, ready to draw Myrtenaster at the first sign of trouble. Perfume, thick and cloying, pricked at her eyes and nose; an irritated huff from her right confirmed she wasn’t alone. For anyone else, this would have been a receiving chamber or a private alcove, laden with hardwood chairs and plush pillows, bottles of wine and spirits crowding a narrow bar, but the way Cinder was positioned in her seat, it was without question a throne room.

The women who flanked her were twins, their two-tone pastel dresses heavy with lace and asymmetry bearing little resemblance to the sheath of burgundy velvet that clung to Cinder’s body from shoulder to knee. She hadn’t aged a day in half a decade, a streak of silver hair piercing outward like a setting in ebony, and the only sign that time had ever touched her. Where Blake’s eyes were solid, unyielding gold, Cinder’s held a particular heat and shine, a relic cast into fire. It was the result of experimenting with Dust in her youth, if the story she told once was to be believed, since no human was meant to have a stare like an open forge, always burning.

“You can go, Junior, thank you.” The comment was directed to the man behind them, an idle flick of Cinder’s wrist dismissing her matched pair of guards — or were they companions, Weiss thought, only older than herself by a year at most — to cool their heels elsewhere. Heels that were sharpened and polished to a killing point, on one of them at least. “I don’t want to be disturbed for anything less than Vytal itself sinking into the sea, do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave another short bow, holding the door open for the sisters to exit and then following close behind. Each tumbler of the lock could be heard as it fell into place, sealing them inside.

“Weiss, darling.” Gone was the aura of command, a small smile of familiarity taking its place. “You’ve cut your hair.”

Under Cinder’s scrutiny, her hand rose to tuck back one short, pale lock. Two months and it was still like seeing a stranger in the mirror sometimes, the ponytail that draped nearly to her waist shorn to just shy of each ear, diamond-edged decoration replaced with a set of earrings, if she chose to wear anything at all. Blake’s reaction when she came out of the salon held a remarkable lack of surprise, a few words between them confirming the reason. Perhaps it was petty to chop off the hair that her father knew, only leaving behind the new growth of the last three years, but it had been surprisingly liberating. If nothing else, it was far easier to maintain, and it made her feel older on the days when confidence in her control of the company threatened to wane.

Weiss’ brow knit when Cinder’s gaze flickered to her right. “But you haven’t.”

One glance at the Faunus displayed a wealth of tension just shy of boiling over; Blake’s jaw was rigid, teeth bared while a hand reached back for where Gambol Shroud would have been, if the weapon wasn’t currently in the trunk of their car. Looking at Cinder provided no answers, nothing but the faint lines of amusement at the corners of dark lips, lacquered nails tapping the arm of her chair as if waiting for an answer while patience drained away.

“Blake?” Weiss prayed the Faunus’ name would be a snap back to reality, rather than the trigger for a violent frenzy.

“She’s your tutor.” The words were distant with disbelief, but also an intimate knowledge Weiss couldn’t translate. “Not some nameless investor.”

“How do you—”

Cinder cut her off with a hum of amusement. “Here I was wondering why the tide had turned against the White Fang. I was so concerned when your father was hospitalized, Weiss, and yet you flourished while barely of age. What a shame — I suppose this makes my offer moot.”

Drawing her fingers along Blake’s wrist made that hand relax from a fist, even if the Faunus refused to look away from Cinder. “What offer?”

“Five years ago she sold Adam recordings, Weiss. Recordings of your conversations, maid gossip, the meetings your father had out on the porch next to the rose garden. We gave her a hundred thousand Lien for useless whispers.” Blake snapped.

It had been years since trusting the Faunus felt like a gamble. Blake’s honesty may have been sudden, but it certainly seemed genuine and thus she turned her attention back to the older woman. “You sold information about me to the White Fang?”

Cinder shrugged in one smooth, languorous movement. “It was nothing personal, sweetling. In fact, it paid for the walls that surround you now. Since then, however, my associations with the family have cooled. Now I see why.”

“Where does your loyalty lay then?” A growl rumbled through the Faunus’ chest.

“To myself, of course.” Fire-bright eyes settled onto Weiss. “And those I still hold affection for.”

Would that those words didn’t make her pulse quicken, drawing out old memories like prey to an open clearing. Desire had been fleeting then, more of a concept of what she should and shouldn’t want; even if Cinder was no longer her teacher, the thought retained a forbidden edge. “Is that why you called me here? To blackmail me?”

“Far from it.” She gestured to Blake, fingers angled like arrows to the Faunus’ tattooed arms. “I had thought to form an agreement of mutual protection. The White Fang has been growing desperate to find a way to sneak a serpent into your house, even if it means burning bridges with old allies. But it seems that’s because you’ve stolen their best right out of their hands. It’s like having both queens in a chess match, really. Resoundingly unfair.”

“Does that make me a queen or a king, then?” Weiss asked, soured by the assertion.

“Neither. You hold the board entirely. I daresay as head of the company you possess more power than Blake and I combined, especially since your lovely cat no longer has the pride to call upon. As long as your father stays comatose, of course.” Cinder stood up with a broadening smile, making her way over to the bar. “I’m curious why you left him that way instead of killing him.”

It took everything Weiss had to keep her eyes from deviating towards Blake. While not the exact truth, the presumption was close enough to be worrying. “I didn’t have my father shot. That’s ridiculous.”

“No?” Prying the cork from a bottle, Cinder filled a glass halfway with a wine so rich it was nearly black. “Quite the stroke of luck, then. Perhaps it was just done for you, which is romantic in its own way. How old are you now, Weiss?”

Despite the fact that the attempted assassination had come first and their relationship after, admitting to one was essentially admitting to the other. “Twenty, last month.”

“Too young for this, then, although I suppose I could make an exception.” After a long sip, Cinder’s fingers toyed with the cork, as if unsure whether to force it back in place. “Would you like a glass? Or you, Blake?”

“No, thank you.” Weiss said.

A frown tightened the Faunus’ expression. “I’ve found staying sober to be in my best interests.”

“I recall you were sober the night we met, actually,” Cinder raised her glass in a mocking toast, “nothing but blood and hunger working its will then.”

When no answer came, Weiss couldn’t help but examine Blake’s face, the subtle cracks in that instinctive, stoic mask. Something was being hidden, but there was no way to discern the particulars. “What does she mean?”

Golden eyes centered in her direction, tension written in brow and jaw alike. “Would you have me break a promise to you in exchange for honesty?”

There were few promises they made to one another, at least those that were spoken aloud.  _Will you trust me_  had given silence its weight more than once, the words never uttered but translated into various gestures; their fingers intertwined, the moment before shattered glass was plucked from a healing cut, locking a safehouse door between them and listening for the sound of gunfire to fade. The only verbal contingencies had been in the case of one of them dying, or—

Weiss blinked. “You slept together?”

“Yes.” Blake exhaled sharply. “Once.”

To call the sensation bubbling up in her chest jealousy didn’t give credit to the word or the nuance of feeling. Confusion, first and foremost, disintegrated into shock at the idea that the two of them had intimate years before without her knowledge, much less any suspicion. Yet she was the one who had asked years ago for the Faunus not to discuss previous lovers and relationships; it was out of insecurity, Weiss would admit, but Blake took the promise seriously, and not once in their entire relationship was there a mention of anyone else, despite a wealth of experience in the bedroom dictating otherwise. To think that Blake and Cinder would have crossed paths was inconceivable before she knew her father’s business dealings with the White Fang, although the possibility certainly hadn’t occurred afterwards, either.

“I seem to remember you chastising me for the age of my charge.” Wine rose in little waves against the confines of Cinder’s glass as it shifted in her grasp. “How old was she when you had your first taste, Blake? Seventeen?”

“Weiss was of age.” The Faunus said, without guilt or guile.

“A day makes all the difference, doesn’t it? What crimes impugn one’s honor is always an interesting study.” Painted lips curved in a tight smile. “Not that I mean to imply anything untoward. It’s no more than I would have sought out myself, if not for the balance of years.”

The last thing Weiss wanted was to blush, but heat was determined to spread across her face. To think how long she had yearned and been denied, only for the suggestion to be so casually thrown into a conversation. Before the call last night, her thoughts of Cinder were long-buried, only to be exposed again, like a fire fed oxygen so it would burst to life under dying ash. “Am I allowed no opinion in this?”  
  
“You were too young at the time, dear. I wouldn’t see our contact severed over such a thing when patience could eventually produce the same result.” Cinder said.

Blake scoffed, head shaking. “What is it that you’re asking?”

“Personal feelings aside, I want our privacy and safety protected. The White Fang doesn’t need to know that Weiss and I have maintained a cordial relationship, nor that you do more than protect her from bombs and snipers. If either side were to come across information on a viable threat to the other, it would be exchanged freely.”

“A generous offer after implying the hounds may come calling to your door.” Her grip on Blake’s wrist was steadying, a reminder that they had one another. “Were you going to surrender the information you already bartered to sweeten the deal, knowing I would want it to protect myself?”

“Initially. There seems to be no point now, knowing you could get it straight from the cat’s tongue.” The admission was shameless, truth made suspect as a lie when uttered by such a practiced mouth.

“This could have happened over a scroll call. We have private connections.” Blake said.

“ _We_?” Cinder put an exaggerated weight into the syllable. “Are you staking your claim with such eagerness now? Weiss can speak for herself, can she not?”

“And without your prompting, Ms. Fa—” The ice in Weiss’ tone shattered at the slip, nails biting into Blake’s skin to find a reprieve from the tension. “Cinder. I don’t see the harm of having an open line of communication to shield one another.”

There was no mistaking the satisfaction in the older woman’s smile. “Excellent.”

“That’s not all she wants from you.” The Faunus spat in Cinder’s direction. “No amount of perfume can hide your…ulterior motives.”

“Desire doesn’t imply motive, Blake, unless you snap your jaws at everyone who appreciates what Weiss has to offer.” Their eyes locked again, alight with curiosity. “Is your cat always so possessive?”

“No more so than I am in turn.” Image be damned; her fingers slid lower, lacing together with the Faunus’ and squeezing tight. “We only come as a matched set. Anything you would promise to me, you promise to Blake.”

“I’m glad we were able to reach an accord, then. It would be a tragedy for something to happen to either of you.” She thought Cinder managed to say so quite well, for someone with a voice that could carry a perfect eulogy.

Weiss weighed her next words with care, divining the tease from the threat. “Just as it would be to lose the teacher that guided me in my father’s stead.”

“Were such a conflict to arise—” Measured steps closed the distance between them, Cinder’s heels just enough to put their heights at odds. A single, artificial inch. “—I would lay my wager at your side rather than his.”

“Why?” Weiss asked, half in fear of the answer. “After all this time.”

“Have you ever seen something rare and beautiful trapped behind glass, Weiss? Some people would say that a cage is safety, but the truth is that they’re used to put things on display.” Cinder’s breath was heavy with wine, the sharp aftertaste of pepper and cloves. “I’ve always wanted to know what you would do with your freedom.”

“And if I’ve learned my lessons well?” There was no stripping the thorns from the question, even if she wished to.

“Perhaps. There’s also something to be said about what you may have learned in my absence.” Cinder looked to her right again, head tilting up a fraction. “Was I truly so awful to you, Blake?”

“It was…enlightening.” The Faunus replied after a second’s pause. “But the same could be said for most near-death experiences.”

Delight filtered through Cinder’s laugh. “I did wonder for some time if you were going to change your mind and try to kill me.”

How they could have ever shared a bed was an enigma Weiss struggled to unravel. Blake despised being toyed with where Cinder reveled in weaving a web around everyone in the room, a vexing trait that she couldn’t imagine being forsaken for something as fragile as intimacy. It was like a panther and tiger mating, need overcoming predatory nature, the desperation of captivity fueling a lust greater than contempt. The fact that she was currently trapped in a room with both of them didn’t escape Weiss’ notice, nor did the fact that neither of them had blinked while looking at one another, any feigned notion of warmth draining away from both sets of golden eyes.

“Try?” Blake’s head angled a few centimeters to the left.

“We just came to an agreement, didn’t we?” Black lashes fluttered as Cinder’s smile reappeared with ease, like it had never vanished. “If you want my blood, you’ll have to take it the other way.”

“I assume this peace means we’re free to leave, then?” When the Faunus’ fingers tightened around hers, Weiss squeezed back until her knuckles went bone-white. “Unless the only gift you have to offer me for leaving my cage is a new leash.”

“Lovely as you would look on a velvet lead,” Cinder swept past her to the door, pressing down on the handle until there was a subtle click, “I wouldn’t burden you with such for the sake of aesthetics. The hypocrisy would do us both a disservice, don’t you think?”

She had never thought about it at all, although the vivid image her mind sought to create in that absence left Weiss reeling. “Are you suggesting something or should I take this…flirtation as a fond farewell?”

“My private quarters are at the end of the hall and Junior has instructions to let me know whenever you choose to leave. Whether you prefer that to be now or in the morning is up to you.” Cinder inclined her head, smiling as she opened the door. “Both of you, that is. I won’t make an ally of one and an enemy of the other.”

Whatever doubts Weiss had in that regard were irrelevant as soon as the door shut. Her knees went weak, a staggered breath escaping as if a thread binding her lungs had just been severed. Blake lead her over to Cinder’s chair without a word, that damnable perfume filling her senses as soon as her hands relaxed against carved wood, the armrests still warm from the older woman’s presence. There were days when she was younger, dancing and singing at private corporate functions, both living decoration and legacy, where Weiss remembered feeling like this; the anxiety putting on the perfect performance had left her numb. Verbal sparring with Cinder excited her as a student, but now it was quite clear that she had been coddled with blunt parries, ego soothed and encouraged to grow where her father would see it carved out.

She watched Blake covet the scattered bottles around the bar, examining each one with a practiced eye before setting them back down. When a prize was chosen, it was housed in clear glass with a stout neck, an apple somehow trapped inside and bathing in amber brandy. The seal was broken with a sharp pop before the Faunus took a whiff of the contents, letting out an almost imperceptible sound of approval and pouring three fingers worth into a rounded glass. By the time Blake sat down beside her, the scent of the alcohol carried, sharp notes of green apple displaced by something sweeter Weiss couldn’t identify.

“I should have told you who she was.” Regret wasn’t the right word for it, but neither was guilt. “What is that, anyway?”

“ _Pomme captive_ , age inconnu. The most expensive thing she has, if I gauged the other vintages right.” Blake indulged in a long sip. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I’d forgotten that Cinder can play me like a six-string lyre. Because—” The Faunus leaned forward, elbows on knees to counter the difference in their heights, and Weiss sighed as soon as curious eyes leveled with hers. “Because I thought you would tell me not to come here.”

Another tight swallow went down the column of Blake’s throat. “I might have, but probably not for the reasons you think.”

“Did you two really—” It remained unfathomable, even if she had seen the aftermath play out right in front of her. “How did it even happen?”

“Adam was supposed to meet with her to discuss a deal. He was called away, so I was sent in his place. This was two years before you and I met. I was angry, disaffected with almost everyone around me, and she danced on my last nerve until something snapped.” Blake said, letting out a soft huff of amusement.

Weiss bit the inside of her cheek, willing her expression steady. “So you regret it.”

“No.” The Faunus’ thumb traced over the rim over the glass. “She read me like an open book. It was the impetus I needed to leave the White Fang before I woke up with Adam’s sword at my throat. If…a human could see I was wavering, he’d catch on soon enough.”

“Two years.” Her life had fallen apart in a night when they met, but she didn’t have a single regret either, not after becoming accustomed to mentioning her father being in a coma as easily as asking Blake to pass the salt across the breakfast table. “I worshipped her then. When she was dismissed, I sulked for almost a month.”

“That’s in past tense.” It was a reserved comment, empty of feeling. “What about now?”

She shook her head. “Does it matter?”

“How you feel always  _matters_  to me, Weiss.” White teeth flashed, a snarl without the sound.

“Are you implying I should take Cinder’s offer seriously?” Massaging the bridge of her nose, Weiss willed the tension away from between her brows. “Sate this dire curiosity and take some petty revenge against you in the process?”

The Faunus’ free hand settled on her knee, the weight a quiet comfort. “No more than I would have you shoot or choke me for other past transgressions. I’m asking what you want.”

Searching Blake’s stare revealed no signs of pain or rejection, only a devotion that seized her like a vise. With a word, with a whisper, Weiss knew that she could ask for Cinder’s head, for the entire club burned to the ground with everyone inside, and it would be done without hesitation or regret. The tender sparks she nourished in the Faunus’ heart burned for her alone, just as she took solace in that dark embrace, the threads between them bound so tightly that to sever one connection would surely devastate the other. It was terrifying and fragile, but it was hard to imagine living any other way.

“What did you hear on those recordings?” Weiss asked softly.

“Most of it was your father’s meetings. There were fragments of financial information Adam thought he could piece together and use, but I think he paid Cinder because I’d be proven right if he didn’t.” Amusement flickered through bright eyes. “The maids’ chatter was pointless. There were no secret affairs or Faunus mistress to uncover.”

Nice to have confirmation that her father was only a hypocrite on one front. “And my lessons?”

“They were heavily edited.” At Weiss’ questioning look, Blake shrugged. “Lines scraped out of longer recordings. She was scrupulous with timestamps, but now I think she preferred to keep the rest of the audio to herself.”

There were only a few occasions Weiss would qualify as damaging, and that would only be as the careless words of an embittered teenager towards her elder. Ammunition for the media to pick apart and malign her reputation with, certainly, but she had been kept ignorant about almost all Schnee business before turning sixteen. Had Cinder waited, convinced her father that further education was required, it was possible she might have disclosed something of note. It hadn’t been a long game with the White Fang then, simply an exchange of convenience. That said volumes about the older woman’s loyalties, but in that regard, Weiss couldn’t pin down a lie; Cinder would never gamble her integrity for so little gain.

“I have no intention of becoming her creature, bedecked and adorned, no matter how noble she makes the prospect appear.” The brandy had done its work well, she noted; the Faunus’ hand was relaxing by degrees around the glass. “And yet you’re not half as angry as I expected you to be.”

“Because I don’t think that’s what she wants. If Cinder was in the mood for a pet, I’m sure the twins in here earlier would suit just as well. From what I’ve gathered, she only has one favorite pupil. It would be a waste of the seed she’s sown to simply put you back behind glass.”

Weiss’ brow knit at the final comment. “What gives you so much faith in that?”

“She could have told Adam her suspicions about me after the night we were together. It might not have lined her wallet, but if she was proven right, it would certainly endear her to the White Fang. Even if they ignored her, their eyes would have been turned my way, just in case.” After knocking back the rest of the liquor, Blake’s smile turned wry. “I would have never gotten out if someone important was paying attention.”

“Or perhaps she thought you’d kill her for daring to speak out.” Weiss countered with a frown. Even at fifteen, she had heard whispers of the White Fang’s shadow, who stole people from their beds like a bogeyman. “Your reputation had to proceed you.”

The Faunus shrugged. “That would have only proven her right post-mortem. A human’s lies would be no threat to a loyal member of the family, but if she disappeared after speaking out…absence of proof can make one look as guilty as an overabundance, in the right context. I think she much preferred to see the chaos that would fall out if she wound me up and let me go.”

While there was no chance that Cinder could have ever predicted this — even those with precognitive Semblances could use them for a few seconds at most — the slow collapse of possibilities leading to this point was somewhat staggering. No wonder she was so pleased. “By all rights, I’d expect you to be jealous that she seeks to ‘wind me up’ by taking me to bed.”

“If you wanted to go alone, I would be. Whether or not you do, there’s no reversing the fact that your scent changed the moment you saw her, nor that I could hear your pulse so loudly like it was in my own head.” A low exhale, then, level and patient. “Desire isn’t the question, only how it’s sated.”

Perhaps others would have been unsettled by the blunt observation, but Weiss knew sharpened senses were how Blake stayed in lockstep with her, gauging the details in the moments where body language had to serve as a bluff. “Fantasy shouldn’t always become reality.”

“Of course not. But I also know that a temptation in the distance only becomes more alluring with time, whereas the ones we indulge keep the mind from wandering.” Blake’s thumb drew a slow, idle circle over her knee. “You’ve only ever been with me.”

Petty as it might have been, Weiss was pleased to hear it said. “Killing a flock with one stone, then.”

As logic went, it was cold yet simple. Blake had presented other, more violent plans with the same disposition, distilling lives into variables and consequences without being callous or cruel. Such a frame was needed to keep the Faunus sane, a shield that kept back the tide of guilt when the fetters of morality weren’t convenient for the task at hand. If Weiss wanted the excuse to sleep with Cinder it was being offered on a silver platter, wrapped neatly as a present, but three years had taught her any number of methods to pry beneath Blake’s ever-present mask and the softer places guarded by that steel-edged spine, laying out the truth like a haruspex.

“You’re doing this for me.” She whispered.

Violet-lined ears laid flat, all the confirmation that was needed. “I’d do anything for you.”

The words were antifreeze and arsenic, cloying and almond-bitter, a poison Weiss would choke on in the hurry to swallow it down. Love had always been described to her in terms of light and warmth, but Blake didn’t make her feel any of those things. The Faunus kept her grounded when she wanted to falter, held her gaze without flinching, implacable where others stumbled. It was safe in the shadows they shared, a visceral bond only understood by traitors to family and blood. What little surprise that the lowest circle of hell was rimed with ice when she was born with a gift for wielding it, forecasting betrayal. Yet she and Blake exchanged uncomfortable truths without loss or regret, something she could say about no one else.

“And I for you.”

Weiss’ knee bumped Blake’s hand out of the way as she abandoned Cinder’s chair for the Faunus’ lap, gripping broad shoulders to find balance. A thrill went through her at the sound of the glass shattering; it had been thrown aside in the haste to take hold of her hips, the kiss offered nearly hard enough to bruise. With her mouth occupied, Weiss blindly reached down, letting out a faint sound of protest at not finding the necktie she was used to. Rather than linger on the absent anchor, she undid the top buttons of the dress shirt so her nails could graze across Blake’s collarbones, draw crimson lines through the flourish of roses inked skin-deep. Being tugged forward spread her thighs even wider until their bodies were flush together, skirt providing false modesty when the lace of her panties made contact with a steel belt buckle.

“What was she like?” Weiss asked, breath hitching as the hem of her blouse was toyed with, the whisper of fabric a prelude to being touched.

“I choked her while we were having sex because I thought one of us might die that night.” Blake lay a path down her throat with tongue and teeth, the confession ending on a low growl. “It was certainly memorable.”

Her fingers hooked in the ribbon binding the Faunus’ pitch black braid, starting to work it loose. “That’s one word for what I just pictured, yes.”

“I think she’s trying to edge into some of the White Fang’s business with this club.” Muted by the curve of her shoulder, Weiss strained to hear Blake speak. “Weapons, drugs, maybe more. A hundred thousand Lien would barely cover the rent for this place, much less the rest.”

The pieces snapped together, prompting a hum of disbelief. “So you think she wanted my promise of protection in order to get her foot in the door?”

“When the White Fang finally buckles, there’s going to be a vacuum of power. If Cinder’s ready for it, she’ll be the queen of the underworld overnight.” Blake’s hips slowly rolled up into hers, the lingering pressure enough to earn a gasp. “Or maybe, she’ll end up wrapped around your little finger.”

Weiss doubted that, although there was no harm in saying so — or imagining the results. “And why are we whispering?”

Teeth nipped at the juncture of neck and shoulder, half chastisement and half tease. “Because there’s a chance she’s recording this entire thing.”

“Are you suggesting we give her a show?” With the ribbon finally freed, Weiss entwined it around her wrist, a temporary lover’s token.

“No,” the Faunus murmured, “because if you don’t get out of my lap, we’re never going to make it to her room.”

Weiss withdrew enough for their eyes to meet, holding up the arm captured by the loop of black silk. “Tie it like yours for me.”

Blake lit up at the suggestion, hands leaving her hips to carefully wind the ribbon up to her elbow and back, tucking it into itself so the lines were clean, a singular piece without beginning or end. Although the material was different, it mirrored the unbreakable thread of Gambol Shroud that curved like a tiger’s stripes around the Faunus’ tattooed forearm, the same one that served as Adam’s garrotte, that pulled her under when she burned for Blake’s touch but hadn’t dared to voice it. Bound as such and pleased, Weiss turned to put both feet back onto the floor, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt before offering a hand.

“If you change your mind—” Blake began.

“—or if you change yours,” Weiss brought the Faunus’ fingers to her mouth, leaving a kiss of comfort over scarred knuckles, “we’ll end it.”

The smile she received held the flicker of concern in check, tamped down even further by the heat of anticipation building in her breast. Every door they passed was unlabeled like the rest, but only one was at the end of the hall; Cinder wasn’t keen on advertising her presence even in private, which only gave credence to Blake’s outline of a possible motive. Before a frame of wood and steel, Weiss hesitated, wondering if it was kind or foolish to knock. After another moment of deliberation, she grabbed the knob and twisted. It was already open.

 _Private quarters_  seemed to imply a bedroom rather than a small apartment, but was what greeted them when she stepped past the threshold. Here, no expense was spared in regard to decoration, the shades of red in the club and hallway discarded for simple black patterns and a chill auric undertone. Cinder stood out from an ebony shelf filled with books like a splash of arterial blood, blooming warm and sanguine as she perused the selection, hand going still against a well-worn spine as soon as the door clicked shut. Her heels were gone, leaving stockinged feet that bid the eye to travel upward and wonder how far the sheer fabric went beyond the embroidered hem of the dress.

The statue atop the bookshelf, a Beowolf baring gilded claws, lost its luster when the older woman turned around and met Weiss’ expectant stare. “Have you made your decision?”

Of course, such an occasion couldn’t go unremarked on, no presumptive stone left unturned. “It would unfortunate to let such a well-crafted lure go untasted.”

“There’s no hook behind the feast, but I don’t expect you to take my word for it.” Cinder gestured towards another room, the carpet inside plush and pale. “Trust can be earned in time.”

Whether it was for the sake of luxury or a preference for multiple partners, the bed within was spectacularly large, its frame wrought from the same dense wood as the rest of the furniture. A lush scene nearly leapt from the headboard, trees carved in relief above a tangle of roots and thorns, but as Weiss looked at it, animals began to emerge; thick branches were one with the antlers of a fallow deer, the arrows that slew it embedded in one solid trunk, the fluid shape of a jackal hidden in sharp brush. The beast’s companions scattered across the forest — a wolf, a lynx, the ragged outline of a bear — creating a ragtag pack of predators with so little prey, the most dangerous game kept out of sight. It was a paradise and a desert all at once, starving among plenty.

Cinder came to a halt at the foot of the bed, fingers passing fondly over the quiver etched into one robust post. The tripled beat of Weiss’ heart settled when she took a breath; here the perfume was faint, no more than what remained present on wrists and throat. “And how do we begin?”

The question was pondered before Cinder’s attention flickered upward. “We’ve eaten songbirds before, haven’t we, Blake?”

Where Weiss expected sarcasm or something spat under the breath, the Faunus projected nothing but morbid amusement, feline ears giving a singular twitch. “Perhaps a kiss to ensure we haven’t overstepped.”

With remnants of apple brandy on her mouth, the imprint of Blake’s hands still aching along the swell of her hips, Weiss nodded slowly. Had she not been looking at Cinder in that instant, the spark of excitement that was ignited and snuffed out in a blink would have been missed. Perhaps there was some power to be found here, but there was no preventing the stilted inhale when the older woman closed the distance between them and cradled her jaw with what edged on tenderness, thumb brushing over her lips to ease them apart. She breathed in wine and heat, a second’s grace before the kiss molded the two of them together, longing slicing through her like a blade.

To think she considered the chaste whisper over lipstick in her youth to be anything close to this.

Cinder’s eyes were half-lidded when they parted, caution dueling with desire. “You’re less of a serpent than I hoped.”

“And you’re kinder than you claim.” Weiss replied, letting the rush of blood carry the words. The knot of the ribbon around her wrist was nothing compared to the one that caught low in her abdomen, winding tighter by the second. “Kiss Blake for me.”

“That may hard to do so with the muzzle in place.” Cinder teased, even as she turned to comply. “You haven’t lost your teeth, have you?”

A dark brow rose. “I could swallow your tongue to prove it.”

“You’d deny Weiss the pleasure of having it between her thighs.” Slender fingers tapped against the silver buttons of the Faunus’ vest. “Surely five years has made you less of a selfish cub.”

“On the contrary,” Blake seized Cinder’s wrist in one hand, the other sliding into straight black locks, “I’ve come to value what I possess.”

Rather than the snap of bone or a cry of pain, a low growl assaulted Weiss’ senses as their mouths met. There was nothing gentle in the sharp angle of Cinder’s neck or the way nails turned to rake down Blake’s forearm, gouging between two loops of ribbon, but she shivered when the kiss deepened, a swipe of the older woman’s tongue making her lover’s mouth shine before teeth were bared. They fed off each other’s aggression until the runes across Cinder’s skin began to glow, the first glimmer through her dress glowing brighter by the second. A shove broke the contact completely, blood welling up to the surface of Blake’s swollen lower lip.

“Weiss.” The low syllable was a summons, and one she had no intent to refuse.

She dutifully lapped away warm copper from the Faunus’ mouth, soothing the bite like any other wound. A tug at her blouse bared the small of her back, but it was only when a soft palm, free of the coarse edges she had come to know, offered a caress that Weiss stiffened. Blake’s breath was only hot against her nape when they were on all fours, when submission was her goal, but without the curtain of her hair to shield from vulnerability, from the notion of Cinder laying the same claiming marks, the dissonance was striking. Golden eyes met her own as Blake hesitated, the zipper of her skirt caught in two fingers once Myrtenaster was unbuckled and set out of reach.

“Could you switch places?” Weiss asked, glad her voice was level. “But continue as you were.”

Either one of them could have wrung a  _please_  from her if they chose, but the exchange happened without a misstep. Her skirt hit the floor a moment after Blake halted behind her, content to be the shadow as Cinder drew the the blouse up over both arms, the fabric pulled over Weiss’ face like a pall before it was cast aside. In little more than white lace, she reached back to open the Faunus’ belt buckle, keeping her eyes on Cinder’s until the older woman’s dress was a pool of burgundy at their feet, followed by a matching set of bra and panties.

It was strange, seeing the runes encircling chest and shoulders exposed. As a student, Weiss caught no more than the occasional glance when an outfit was worn with significant décolletage, and even then, her focus had been more on the curves she desired and envied, especially when maturity had offered only sharp angles to balance grace. She had to wonder if there was another magic in them — too intricate to be scars, cut deeper than ink — beyond the fire they could call into being, keeping Cinder’s beauty intact from the ravages of time. Maybe, just maybe the talk of being held static behind glass came from experience. Who could say when no one dared to ask?

“You’re just as lovely as I pictured,” a searing touch trailed across her collarbones as Blake unhooked her bra, allowing the straps to slide freely down narrow shoulders, “beauty is hard-won when it blossoms in winter.”

“More so when it survives through it.” Weiss said, swallowing past the stutter of her pulse when she was guided towards the bed.

Her back met bleached linens, a pale ornament set in ivory, the blue of both eyes the only sign of such color in the room. Blake knew exactly how to coax her, wordless yet absolute, but it took Weiss a moment to read what was different. Although a set of tight black briefs had been stripped away without a second thought, the constriction of the Faunus’ binder remained, the claws tattooed along one side concealed. She couldn’t remember the last time it was worn to bed; Blake always took a moment of privacy to remove it whenever they returned home, unless there was business to be had later in the evening.

When Cinder made no comment, Weiss forged the connection; she had been given the right with trust and time to see her lover completely naked, but the older woman had not.

“Is this alright?” She asked, fighting desire’s grasp a moment longer.

“If you don’t mind her having the first taste.” Blake said, attention averting pointedly between her thighs.

That wasn’t what Weiss had meant, but the lack of anxiety served as an answer well enough. The Faunus’ kiss muted a moan when her hips were raised, panties taken down to her knees in a single motion, the rasp of nails against her calves echoed as the lace was tugged past her ankles. Blake cupped one breast, toying with the peak until it hardened and Weiss gave an encouraging whimper to move to the other. To have a second pair of hands, the heat of another mouth, felt like a dream until she found the courage to look down. Cinder was no succubus or specter, but hunger was reflected back in that fire-bright stare as her legs were drawn further apart, the whisper of breath over her stomach becoming a pleased hum at the proof she was already wet.

“You truly are a matched set,” Cinder declared, fingers threading through white curls, “bound together. Won’t you join me, Blake?”

“Not yet.” When the weight of the Faunus’ palm rested against her throat, Weiss barely restrained a tremor. There was no intent to choke or strangle, but the pressure alone made her heart quicken. “I don’t usually get the pleasure of just watching.”

She had fantasized about Cinder years before, adapting what few facts she was permitted to know about sex with the vagaries of romance implied in books stolen from her mother’s collection in the library. Without experience to disprove it, fumbling lusts manifested as a learned touch trailing over her gown, a tryst stolen in the impossible hours past sundown, as if the older woman would have any reason to be at the estate in the middle of the night. Weiss once believed seduction was a state of being, a haze that overwhelmed and consumed until a lover was sated; now, with the reality before her, it was far better to be cogent and wanting than hypnotised.

Her hands found sudden purchase in the sheets as she was spread open, held there until she blushed and bit her lip. There was no reason to struggle under the inspection save for some instinctive drive for modesty, purposefully provoked; twinned points of gold watched her gasp at the first stroke against her folds, the brief pause after as the taste was savored. Weiss could have taken a rough approach without complaint, but the sedate exploration was maddening, as if Cinder was trying to memorize her with lips and tongue, tease until she was dripping and helpless in the face of need.

Looking up at Blake steadied her, taking back a fraction of control even despite suppressing the urge to writhe the second Cinder’s mouth enveloped her clitoris and gave a firm suck. The Faunus quite near devoured her when they did this together, sparking a push and pull of primal energy until she left slick heat smeared down Blake’s chin, threatening to stain the sheets, but the older woman was painfully deliberate; not a drop passed full lips that wasn’t licked away, the shift of her hips stifled by five red lines scratched into the hollows. Weiss let out a gasp of protest when Cinder pulled away completely, only to enter her with a pair of immaculate fingers.

It could have —  _should_ _have_  — hurt. As it was, she was tight around every thrust, yet wet enough to bear the building rhythm, encouraged by the palm kept firmly against the swell of her clitoris. The promise of pain from the hard surface of those nails was dispelled by the skilled movement of Cinder’s fingers, twisting to seek out every sensitive place inside her. Blake’s hand subtly tightened around her throat, trapping the fluttering pulse there and putting a rasp on the moan Weiss couldn’t hold back. The fact that it was  _Cinder_  fucking her, right before the Faunus’ eyes, felt like getting away with murder.

In a way, maybe she was.

A wordless cry tore its way from Weiss’ lips as she came, back arching sharply enough to suspend her above the bed, anchored only by the strength of her lover’s grip. The pleasure was blinding, every coil of tension unwound into bliss as she shivered and trembled, strain finally overcoming the force of release as she fell and surrendered back to the cool comfort of linen, the soft give of pillows underneath her head. She was dazed for a long moment, aware only of the slow withdrawal of Cinder’s and Blake’s hands, allowing a return back to her gasping, flushed body, despite the occasional aftershock trying to steal her breath away again.

“I want your mouth next.” Weiss said, untangling one hand from the sheets to cup Blake’s cheek.

The Faunus nodded and Cinder sat up, wiping her fingers on the inside of one thigh. With the shade of lipstick from the older woman’s mouth and the pale cast of Weiss’ skin, it looked like a streak of fresh blood. “Shall I relegate myself to the role of spectator, then?”

“I intended to return the favor, if you would join me.” Adrenaline bred confidence as she crooked her fingers in Cinder’s direction, catching the amusement that jumped between each set of golden eyes.

“I’m glad to see Blake hasn’t left you spoiled.” Cinder said, positioning her knees on either side of Weiss’ head. To have her so close only emphasized their differences, but she could find no source for jealousy at the ardent reveal underneath black curls, shining with clear arousal. “That’s always such a shame.”

“I spoil her in other ways,” the Faunus countered before letting teeth graze over Weiss’ unmarked thigh, dark hair brushing across her legs like a caress, “few of which you’ll get to see.”

The older woman looked down, gaze burning into hers. “There’s no reason to be greedy when she offers herself so generously.”

Rather than find the proper cutting words, Weiss rested her hands on the curve of Cinder’s ass, a single tug forward bringing her mouth in contact with swollen folds. Far from allowing her to reign on her back, Blake had been a zealous teacher, although the lessons were surprisingly playful, no mockery given when she had to pause and assuage a stiff jaw or overworked tongue. Now she came to it with practiced ease, enjoying the pleased sound as she painted Cinder with flat strokes up the entire length of her core, whetting the appetite.

Blake, on the other hand, left behind previous restraint for vigor. Broad swipes of the Faunus’ tongue took advantage of the languor that remained, coaxing out a whimper as Weiss tried to focus on her own task. A brief thrust inside made her heels dig into the bed, displacing the sheets until she reached down with the arm restricted by the ribbon. Their hands entwined, joined from palm to palm and braced atop one thigh, but it wasn’t quite enough. Weiss’ free fingers found the soft tips of feline ears and massaged along the backs of them, moaning against Cinder’s skin when Blake purred in response.

She was punished for the distraction with a pull of her hair, pale strands twisted until her attention returned to the older woman’s clitoris, tongue working against the taut hood to get to the sensitive bud underneath. Caught between them both, it was difficult for Weiss not to mimic Blake’s pace, artistry breaking down into raw desperation as she tried to make Cinder orgasm first, only to be derailed by the sudden push of fingers inside her again. It wasn’t the demanding rhythm from before, but pressure against a particular spot that made sparks dance along the edge of her vision when Blake sucked and licked until she came completely undone.

Slick heat drenched the Faunus’ fingers as Weiss’ hips bucked, the burst of ecstasy so intense she had to muffle a scream by turning her head and sinking her teeth into the crux of Cinder’s thigh. A sharp hiss, caught on the razor’s edge of pleasure and pain, followed the bite and Weiss was roughly dragged back into position, patience lost as Cinder stole every bit of friction she could get by riding her gasping mouth, the weak offering of her tongue between choked breaths from the sheer overload. Muscle flared in taut lines up both legs before release was signaled with a low moan, the sound escaping like an exaltation, the instinctive whisper of a prayer.

After a firm squeeze, Blake released Weiss’ hand, the severed connection somewhat of a shock until she came to her senses, catching a split second view of the deep-set mark she’d left in Cinder’s flesh before the older woman moved off of her, laying down on one side as they began to recover. She hadn’t drawn blood, considering the only taste on her lips was the same one soaking the curls at the apex of of Cinder’s thighs. When her pulse finally began to slow, there was a brief blur in her vision, her bedmates’ limbs indistinguishable from one another in a haze of black and gold until the world righted itself; Weiss realized, belatedly, that she might have a type.

“Is there a reason you haven’t been participating, Blake?” Cinder asked, brushing disordered strands of black and silver back into place.

The fingers inside Weiss just a moment before were cleaned with a few pointed laps of the Faunus’ tongue. “I most certainly have been.”

“In giving, yes, but not receiving.” Eyes averting, Cinder smiled. “I promise I won’t bite as hard as she has.”

“You aren’t half as convincing after you’ve come.” Blake said, sitting up on both knees. “Weiss, if you’d give me the center.”

She did, and there were very few things that pleased her more than seeing the Faunus sprawled out in bed, a reminder of how much space that a body full of corded muscle could take up. Arms stretched out across the top of the headboard, Blake could almost reach from post to post, fingers curving to grip the wood. Broad shoulders and powerful thighs flexed under stygian ink, the vines and broken chains sprouting from skin starting to shine with sweat. Letting out a hum of appreciation, Cinder pressed a kiss to one knee, a centimeter shy of where the tattoo stopped. Weiss turned onto her stomach and inched forward until she could hook her arm around Blake’s other leg, encouraging it even wider. 

“There’s plenty of your cat to share, isn’t there?” Cinder’s question was uttered after a graze of teeth, sharp enough to make the Faunus shiver.

“Or be taken in tandem.” Weiss replied, searching Blake’s eyes for any anger or upset. Pupils drawn to thin slits stared back, revealing a nigh-animal lust ready to boil over. “Keep your hands up there. No distractions.”

“Maybe I was wrong about who should be wearing the leash.” Lacquered nails raised a set of marks from one knee to the jeweled crown etched into the Faunus’ hip, provoking a growl. “Although you do have a penchant for strangulation, don’t you, Blake? That could prove troublesome.”

Cinder might have retained some patience for games, but Weiss couldn’t bear the thought of denying her touch, not like this. She leaned up to place a kiss in the center of the largest rose adorning Blake’s chest, claiming another from the Faunus’ mouth before drawing her tongue down flexed abdominals in one long stroke, stopping just short of unruly curls. A guttural sound from above caught her attention, justified by the semi-circles of Cinder’s teeth drawing a dark flush to the surface of one strained thigh. Without a safeword or plaintive look, Weiss took it as permissible, wanting to focus on where Blake needed it the most.

She didn’t have the vocabulary — or perhaps, the experience — to describe the difference in taste compared to Cinder’s, but she certainly knew the Faunus’ better. The first pass of Weiss’ tongue over heated folds wet her entire mouth, the creak of wood betraying Blake’s tightened grip. Her tenderness was enjoined by the older woman’s torments of choice, black lines traced over with carmine, the temporary color refreshed by nails and the hard press of canines every time it threatened to fade.

A soft touch to Weiss’ cheek bid her to pull away for a matter of seconds, an explanation given in the wicked implication of Cinder’s smile. They descended as a pair this time; she focused her attentions on Blake’s clitoris where Cinder lapped underneath, quick and relentless. It was a difficult angle to maintain, but worth the effort when the Faunus’ groan of shock rose in volume, every breath labored with the discipline needed to keep from writhing and risk that the movement would push either of them away.

Blake’s head sagged, shoulders going slack as heaving gasps became a steady purr. The sound rumbled through a clenched jaw until the last spasms of pleasure were gone; Weiss was gratified to see that the Faunus’ arms had never left the headboard, exertion giving life to the endless weave of symbols and patterns emblazoned there, drops of sweat scattered like dew across empty petals. She placed her hand against Blake’s stomach to feel its staggered rise and fall, the ribbon around her wrist still taut as the sculpted muscle beneath her palm.

“Are you ready again, darling?” Cinder asked, leaning over to claim a kiss.

Weiss blinked. Her mind had been far from her own arousal when Blake’s was still slick across her mouth. “Yes, I suppose.”

A broad hand slid into short white hair, catching on moistened strands until she was forced to tilt her head back and meet the Faunus’ stare, the hunger surging there of a different sort than a few minutes before. “Good.”

It wasn’t the first time that Blake pushed her onto hands and knees, but with Cinder underneath her, sinuous as a snake, worshipping her breasts and plundering her mouth with kisses hard enough to hurt, Weiss came with a hoarse shout only moments later. The next orgasm was on her back, the one to follow with wrists wrenched behind her as a dire chorus of promises was whispered in both ears; she had lost count when the Faunus’ fingers were fucking her from behind as she lay on her side, no longer able to bear anything that put weight on her legs when muscle jumped beneath her skin, nerves ablaze from head to toe. Cinder had found the last place where she could withstand any pressure, cupping between her thighs until Weiss sobbed out one final release.

 _Argent_  left her in a whisper and Blake’s hand shot out to grab Cinder’s shoulder as a warning to stop. Weiss had only gasped the safeword once before, on the night they decided it, stirring a passion in the Faunus that she was only able to tame by breaking down completely. This wasn’t a surrender, not quite, but strung out to her very limits, she could do nothing but let a void claim her, darkness eclipsing on all sides. In the cradle of their limbs, consciousness faded in and out, until the only sense left was that of two tastes mixed together, lingering on the back of her tongue.

 

—

 

She woke to the sound of running water. Cinder’s perfume was so faint as to be a dream, and it was only when her fingers brushed cold white silk that Weiss realized she was home. Silver bolts of moonlight illuminated the bedroom, recasting the scar curved along Blake’s ribs into a harsher line under the play of shadows, the ebon wolf’s head revealed across a muscular back when the binder was stripped away. Weiss glanced down; someone had dressed her, Myrtenaster and its belt resting at the far end of the bed.

“How did we get home?” She asked, catching a glimpse of gold when the Faunus looked over one shoulder; they always seemed that much brighter in the middle of the night.

“Cinder had Junior bring our car around to the back. I thought it would be better if we cleaned up here.” Adjusted to the dark, Weiss could make out the lines of fatigue near Blake’s eyes. “Sleep never comes easy in unfamiliar beds.”

Better not to test the new bounds of safety, either. “Did she say anything?”

“That there was no need for goodbyes when you would see each other again.” Completely bare, Blake turned to face her. “Are you steady enough to walk to the bath?”

A tremble went through Weiss’ legs as she sat upright, fighting back a wince as removing her blouse gave a potent reminder of the bites decorating her shoulders. “I doubt it.”

The faint ache of teeth was nothing compared to the warm, nearly painful throb between both thighs as Blake lowered her into the tub. With proper light, abrasive reds and violent imprints of purple — most in sets of five or ten — lay like dye on porcelain across her skin, blending into one another near the notches of her hips, the point of each knee. In the morning, Weiss knew she would be sore and listless, but she was still of sound enough mind to take pleasure in the Faunus washing her hair, the kisses exchanged while blood and sweat was scoured away, thin threads of scarlet dissolving as soon as they touched the water.

How could she not be in love with Blake, who provided mercy in the moments when she least deserved it?

Such was the thought that carried Weiss to bed as that strong embrace surrounded her, bodies entwining until the Faunus’ weight was both tether and shield.

Sleep came quickly and she dreamt of fire.


End file.
